The Master of Death
by wolvesheart
Summary: What if having the Deathly Hollows wasn't really how you become the Master of Death? What if there was and is only one MOD? And how messed up would the world become if that one person was Harry Potter? When Harry is left at the Dursley's he is spirited away. With the help of death and an unlikely ally can he surpass Dumbledor's manipulations? Godlike!Harry Smart!Harry HPLV
1. Chapter 1

The Master of Death

The night everything changed. The shift in the Balance Between Good and Evil shifted. On this night of July 31 of the year 1989 one Harry Potter was born. He came out as a normal 8lbs 7oz and yet everything about him screamed abnormality. His skin was beyond pale with a sickly sheen despite his obvious health, he came out quietly and didn't shed a tear, instead giving a large huff to expel the fluids from his lungs and throat. His black hair was unusually long and silky for a baby, framing his angelically attractive face. The most prominent feature about him, the feature that drew the most attention, were his brighter than the Avada Kedavra green eyes that stared piercingly, intelligently, and boldly at the gathered adults with a sense of maturity in his stature.

His mother, a beautiful red haired witch with the same, yet much less pronounced, green eyes stared wide-eyed at her husband who intern stared right back at her with his black hair framing his black eyes in a less elegant copy of his son. The assembled group of spectators surrounding the astonished and slightly fearful parents all stared just as gob smacked as them. That is, all except one. The misleadingly fragile looking old man at the bedside of couple stared on with joy twinkling in his blue eyes as he thought of all of the possibilities of this predicament. 'This is the one! I knew James and Lily would be the bearers! It's really to bad about what has to happen now. They were good soldiers and were a great asset to the light. Oh well, it is for the greater good after all.' Dumbledoor shook himself of thoughts and leaned closer to Lily from over the bed. "My dears. Congratulations! You have given birth to the eventual defeater of the Dark Lord. You know what this means? You must protect the young one at all costs."

The couple glanced sharply up at the old man. "You don't really think he is the Child of Prophecy do you?" James gasped and clutched Lily and Harry closer to him in fear.

"I am afraid you already know the answer to that question. Look at him and tell me that you don't see the potential he has to defeat Voldemort?"

The couple was silent as they contemplated their child who just gazed back at them looking for all the world as if he understood everything that was going on around him. "No, not my little boy! That is too dangerous. I don't want that for him. I wouldn't be able to stand and watch form the side as he fought the most dangerous Dark Lord of the Century." Lily cried hysterically.

'That is the precise reason that you are not going to have to watch. You will be to busy on your next great adventure to even notice the predicament of your son. It is a mercy really.' He didn't say that of course. They wouldn't have understood. "Worry not, my dear. Your son will be all right. He will be in the hands of the Light and will grow to be strong in our ways and beliefs. For now though we must get him to safety as soon as possible. Young… what is his name?"

"Harry," Lily and James stated together, "Harry James Potter."

"That is a fine name and he will be known throughout the wizarding world." He proclaimed plucking the boy from Lily's unsuspecting arms. Harry, however, wasn't paying him any mind. He was staring into the corner of the room at what seemed to be nothing to everyone else in the room. His gaze shifted downwards steadily as he continued to stare in the corner. Disregarding it as a normal baby's wandering glance the grown-ups turned away. Unknown to them he wasn't looking at just an empty dark corner. Kneeling in the shadows of the room was a figure shrouded in a cloak of darkness and bowing its head in a submissive position while still looking in the baby's eyes. He was holding a scythe in a guard position across his body with his barely visible bony fingers holding tightly to it. The lone figure said only one thing before he disappeared from the room. It seemed to echo around the room and all of the Earth gave recognition by going dark for a split second. Throughout all of the Earth all creatures (dark, light, and neutral) gave a cry of welcome in a melodious harmony to Death's scratchy baritone uttered word, "Master."

(Inside the Gordics Hollow on night of the attack)

Voldemort sauntered up to the house the Potters were hiding in. His little rat, disgusting man that he was, had finally came through and showed his usefulness. He didn't know how he became secret keeper for the Potters but he thanked whatever unlucky star was over the young Potter that night.

The wards were easy to get through and he didn't set off any alarms by masking the incredible magic within himself so as not to be detected. "_Bombarda!_" with that one cry the fun began. 'The Potters were good adversaries. Too bad they birthed the brat. I could have changed them over to the dark side.'

His first opponent was James. He'd previously been in the living room doing something. He looked up in surprise and jumped when he saw Voldimort. He whipped out his wand in record time and yet he was still too slow to throw even one curse. The last thing James Potter ever did was yell a warning to his wife, "Lily! He's here take Harry-" and then a sickening thud.

Lily knew that James was dead and that she was next. She ran from her room to the nursery and tried to Portkey him out to a safe place set up for him if this ever happened. She realized that Voldemort must have set up Anti-Portkey and Apparation wards. Her sinking feeling grew and she came to accept the inevitable… until she saw the Dark Lord climbing the stairs towards her. She slammed the door in his face and rushed to her baby.

The Dark Lord was impressed with the fight that the desperate mother put up. He still acknowledged that if he hadn't promised Severus to spare her she would be dead, but for him trying to bring her down with the least fatal amount of damage possible that will still handicap her, she was doing well. Eventually, he got her to drop her wand and she ended crouched over the cradle. "Not my baby. Please! Why did you have to choose my baby? Don't kill Harry. Please, he is all I have please don't kill my little boy." She wasn't shouting. The words were a whispered truth. She wasn't even looking at him. Harry, unbeknownst to them, had been awake since he felt Voldemort walk through the wards and witnessed everything that happened. He was staring at his mother with his unnaturally green eyes and in them she found reassurance and peace. When the end came she heard a faint whispered voice say, "Fear not. For he will be safe in my care." The last thing she saw before she died was Harry illuminated by the green of the Death curse coming towards her and the way the light of death seemed to make him brighter.

Voldemort wasted no time after the death of his once great annoyance. He immediately pointed his wand at the infant and cast the curse while looking it in the eye for the first time. The moment before the curse left his wand he felt a warm feeling rise up from the once thought dead human side of him. Then the curse flew and hit the child. All of the pieces of his soul cried out as one and rushed back into his body from the pain. Voldemort was confused by this turn of events as he struggled with the pain. Then the unimaginable happened. He was still staring in horror, for what reason he knew not, at the crib in front of him so he was able to watch as the curse hit Harry's forehead and seemed to be absorbed into him. Then there was a pause, in all this time Harry was still staring at Voldemort in the face, and the curse came streaking out of Harry's head and straight back at Voldemort and his newly put together soul.

Voldemort's body exploded and his soul was left behind. Next to him stood a man covered in a black cloak. "You will wait here and observe with me," was all the indication Voldemort was given that the man had seen him. He found that he couldn't see move or speak in anyway. His anger and fear rose as he was rendered helpless by the unknown force near him.

He didn't have long to wait for what was to come. What he didn't know was that the moment he was in the middle of was the beginning of a new life for him. One that would show him the beauty of death and the rewards of love and he really didn't expect it to all come from the little boy he had tried to kill.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it took me so long to update. I have a very busy life and plus I like to have the outlines for the stories I'm writing written at least four chapters ahead so, as long as the plot bunnies don't turn on me, I know what I'm doing. OK! Enjoy!**

Dumbledore was confused when he walked into the Potter's house. The door was unhinged, yes, but everything else was in almost pristine order. The only blemish that he found in the living room was the body of James Potter. Everything else was without any sort of damage or disrepair. He shrugged his surprise and set off up the stairs to the nursery where he knew Sirius was waiting for him. He stopped at the door and calmed his slightly frayed nerves from the excitement of his long anticipated plan coming into full circle.

He opened the door to the nursery and stepped inside preparing himself for his role in the coming hours. Again he was slightly surprised at how little was effected by the event that would change the course of his life. It was apparent that there had been a battle here but the room was still intact and only holes in the wall were there for physical proof. In the middle of the room holding what he assumed was Harry; Sirius Black had his back to him.

"Sirius?" he entered the room and approached him like one would a wounded animal. "Sirius, it is Albus. Are you alright? I received your owl and came as soon as I could. Do you know what happened here?" Sirius remained turned away as he answered.

"There dead. Lily and James are…" he broke off into a sob, "I came in and James was on the floor and he wasn't breathing and I rushed upstairs and Lily was on the floor not breathing and I was so afraid! The crib was intact but I…Harry was… is." He broke off and fell to the floor and wept harshly. Dumbledore started to panic thinking he was wrong and his weapon was dead. He rushed over to Sirius and crouched beside him to look over at the bundle in his arms. He was relieved to see the breathing baby looking back at him with its almost unnaturally green eyes. It seemed black couldn't take the relief and grief that coursed through his body as his emotions finally caught up with him.

"What of Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked not paying attention the Black's flinch at the mention of his friends' killers' name.

"The only thing I was able to find left of him was his exploded cloak and pieces of his body that were splattered everywhere like a butcher shop madhouse." Sirius replied with a bit of stiff sadistic glee. "I cleaned it all up when I saw Harry was awake," here his voice broke, "I didn't think he needed to see that at his young and delicate age. It would be bad enough if he'd seen all of it in the first place." There was a beat of silence then, "I don't understand how the man got here in the first place. It is under the most protective charm out there and, even if he'd known the house was there initially, he couldn't have gotten in if his life depended on it! The only way to get in is if the Secret Keeper willingly told you and there Secret Keeper was…" his monologue was stopped by a sudden realization that seemed to shake his body to the core. He wasn't even strong enough to stay on his knees anymore and feel hard on his hip and bottom with dawning horror as he came to the conclusion that his friend since Hogwarts, no matter how weird and shifty, had WILLINGLY sold out his friend to the F-king DARK LORD! He was raging mad and falling into a frenzy of hate and despair. "I'M GONNA KILL HIM!"

Dumbledore was just about to celebrate the smooth transition to the next phase of his plan when all of the anger left Sirius with a shocking wave of mood swing so fast, he felt like he was near a pregnant woman and nearly fell to his own behind in shock. Looking a Sirius for the cause of his sudden absence of killing intent, he found something that wasn't to the carefully constructed form of his plans at all. Sirius was looking on Harry with a look of surprise and unconditional love on his face; said baby was holding Sirius' face with his hands and staring deeply into his eyes seeming to try to convey some message or another to his godfather despite his obstacle of not being able to talk. Dumbledore could see all of the willingness to go after Peter melt from Sirius' face and body language and cursed out loud. Now he would have to do things the hard way. Why couldn't Sirius and Harry stick to the script?

As Sirius was turning to Dumbledore in confusion for him cursing, Albus was already moving and had his wand out and the Imperius sent at Sirius before he could even comprehend this change of events despite his Auror training. He didn't have his guard up, despite Moody's training, because he didn't think that he needed it around the trusted Head of Light Figure Albus Dumbledore.

"It is for the Greater Good that you aren't in the picture for young Harry's raising. You are to go after Peter. He will be waiting for you to start chasing him at the end of this street. You will then start laughing maniacally and act deranged for the Aurors that will come after you. You will forget your Auror training and the fact you are do a trial and deal with your punishment. You will only be able to think clearly after you are in Azkaban and the only thing you will think happened here is that you arrived to the home, found your dead friends, gave Harry to the conveniently there Hagrid, chased after Pettigrew, and got caught after he turned into an animagus after framing you. Give me Harry and go now." Sirius, who never had been able to learn how to throw off the Imperius, gave over to Albus' commands and handed over Harry and ran to his arrest.

Dumbledore was sad that he had to do things like this. Doing things by way of spells had a way of tracking back to the castor. He fired off some random household spells so that, if someone checked his wand, he wouldn't be traced to have fired the shot. He looked down at the baby in his arms and started in surprise again. Harry was glaring at him! This wouldn't do. If, on the off chance, Harry remembered this he could be sent to Azkaban or, even worse, Harry could not remember impressions and decide upon seeing him again that he didn't like him so he wouldn't come to him even if he did "save" him from his relatives.

"Don't look at me like that Harry, my dear boy. It was for the greater good and so was this." He pointed his wand at the baby in his arms and shot the highest level of compulsion and loyalty charms on him. Dumbledore wasn't paying attention to his charge at all, if he had been he would have seen the dark shield that blocked the spells that he'd just caste. He was too busy thinking about the placement plans he had in place and all of the memories he had to alter to get the effect he wanted. He didn't mind the work though; the Greater Good was worth it.

Voldemort watched the proceeding in shock. Was this really the leader of the Light he was looking at?! He turned his head to address the person, or thing, next to him. However, before he could open his mouth he was cut off. "Hold your tongue for there is more." The Dark Lord again opened his mouth to speak but was this time cut off by a powerful serge that lifted him off of his feet and pulled him into a vertex.

He found himself in the front of a house that looked just like every other house on the block. They were all red bricked with impeccably symmetric gardens and everything else with no room for individuality. He was interrupted by the awkward sensation of something entering his back and out his front in an uncomfortable way. He looked down and spotted a newspaper. He turned and saw the paper delivery boy ride past on his bike off to give out more of the things. He looked back down and gave a startled yelp at the date of the newspaper. November 6, 1981 was the date. He'd attacked the Potters on Halloween. He again turned to his silent partner and tried to make an enquiry, albeit a bit more startled than the others. The figure turned on him quickly. "Shut up! I don't have time to answer all of your inane questions! I will answer them later when I feel the need to humor you. If you were anybody else you would be rotting in the pits of Hell for all I cared about you, but no, you had to be the special one. Well you have no authority now, and nor will you ever. You are lucky to get the chance to be what you are going to be so stand there, shut up, and wait because your answers might just answer themselves. And, so help me, if I hear one more intake of breath I will flay you and then silence you after you are horse from your screams anyway!"

Voldemort kept a tight hold on his instincts to snap back at him, but an even greater instinct said that he would regret it. So he silently stayed with his partner as they followed a humongous man around for the morning and even when they were teleported again to the stick of a woman to follow her too. He didn't say anything at all. He just silently observed.

Finally, the being turned to him. "Ask your questions."

Voldemort wasted no time, as he had all day to think about them. "Who are you and why am I here?"

The man answered promptly, "I am Death and you are my Master's mate."

AN: Sorry for the long wait and if it doesn't make sense. It is really early in the morning!


	3. Chapter 3

Master of Death (3)

He blinked. Death was looking at him with nonchalance and clearly expected for him to get on to the next question. Voldemort was having a hard time reconciling what he heard with the truth. After the innitial shock, and the brief mental meltdown that followed, he was finally able to use his Slytherin brain and try to figure out what this means and how it would affect him. "What does that mean? Am I expected to just raise and then eventually be in a relationship with this child? Is this part of the reason that my soul reconnected? What does him being my mate really mean?"

Death glared at him with intense hate. "Let us get something straight. You are HIS mate. He will chose whatever the parameter is for your relationship and even if he does decide to be the reviever during sexual encounters, he is still ranked higher than you in anything else. Also, you would think that someone who prides themselves as being Slytherin personified would have more brains than to ask if they would have to raise the Master of Death. Do you think that I was just running free throughout the universes doing as I pleased or even just my job? No. In the beginning of time, before I was created, the One decided that I would be there. However, it knew that I would be the way I am, for it sees all time and exsits everywhere. Therefore, it decided that before my creation there would be one whom I would be bound to listen to and obey in all things for the end of time. My Master has been here for longer than Life or Death and will continue on after the end of this and all worlds as a privilege given by the One for being the First of its creations. My Master has powers of such great strength I can't match or comprehend and you, as his mate, have the privalege of gaining some of that power if he choises to accept you in this time. This is not the first time he has come to see if his mate has matured enough to come with him and accept the role of concort of Master of Death. That is part of the reason that your soul came back together, it was trying to impress its mate and was ashamed to be in its presence broken. The other reasons are for my Master to tell when he feels it is prudent."

Tom glared at Death as the implications that he was less than attiquite for anyone let alone a child who had a lucky brake in killing him, he despritly shys away from the thought of how old this 'Masrter of Death/mate' person is, sunk in. He was about to tell Death where to shove it, in his mind because he was too Slytherin to show actual annoyance to one of his worse nightmares, when he felt something give inside of him. Suddenly he was hit with a wave of disatisfaction, anger, and impatience. Noting and then didsregarding Death's smug and knowing look, Voldemort looked deep within himself for the source of the foreign emotions. He was surprised to see that deep within him, deeper than he ever went before, was a barrier that had a slight crack in it. Vodemort gathered his magic and prodded the barrier along the crack to see if it would give. After what felt like five minutes of getting nowhere Voldemort decided to take all of his magic and bang it against it. Repetedly. This continued until Voldemort and his magic were drained. He glared tiredly at the barrier and was suprised to notice that the crack was closing up. He growled and got up to pound on it with all of his frustration. However when he got close enough he saw something that gave him pause. It was him but not.

The man on the other side of the barrier could'v been Volemort's reflection except for a few minor things. In his red eyes was a look that spoke of infinant knowledge and intense power and, although he would like to think it was, Voldemort knew he was centuries away from that point. He was taller and broader in the shoulders, his brown hair was in a ponytail that was past his shoulders as opposed to Voldemorts slim physique and newly grown brown hair that hung in his eyes that were past his shoulders. Voldemort cocked his head to the side and studied the man that had been inhabiting him for who knows how long. "Can you understand me?" he asked. The figure nodded his head. "How long have you been there? Why are you there?" The man shook his head and mouthed back _Later_. Voldemort shook his head and was about to ask his questions again but Death was suddenly there. He bowed to the man in the barrier and grabbed Voldemort to forcably pull him out of his own conciousness.

"What the-" Voldemort spluttered.

"If you do not shut up and watch the proceedings in silence then I will have to put the silencer on you again." Death said without looking aat him. He was staring dowm the street watching for something. Voldemort was surprised to find that it was dark and he could see animungus cat sitting on the brick wall still staring in the same direction as Death. He followed their gazes just in time to see someone apparate in and start to gather the lights in the streetlamps all along the way down the street. He growled as he recognized the one person that he hated above all else. He was more manipulative and prejudice than he was, and he wanted to eradicate an entire class group. Dumbledoor made it to the house where his audience was waiting for him. Voldemort just glared as he had his conversation with the retransformed animungus. He looked on in curiosity and incerduilty as he watched someone, Hagrid he remembered, rode a motorcycle from the sky over the muggle houses. He shook his head as the studidity of these people sunk in. They were making a racket and they didn't even have the presence of mind to put the muggles to sleep! They could be caught by someone who wanted to go have a cup of water and then notices that all of the street lamps were off! He shook his head and decided that purebloods weren't all that great either in terms of exposing us, or them since I'm dead he thought with a grimance, to the muggle world that can kil us in a short bloody war. He felt a spark of approval from inside.

Voldemort focused back on what was happening. He noticed that they had put the basket that his supposed mate was in and were backing away. He waited for one to step up and knock on the door. He was appalled when he saw they had no such intention. Hagrid and the Animungusm, Magonigal, left Dumbledoor alone to put the lights back up. before he left, however, he pulled another envelope out of his pocket and placed it on the other. He looked at Harry with a hunry expression that had the man inside of Voldemort gunning for Dumbledors throat and blood. _You and me both buddy. _Voldemort thought. Dumbledoor finally left and he turned to Death. "What was that all about?"

Death was looking at the envelope with disdain. He walked over and grabbed the letter on top and opened it to read. Voldemort watched as Death stiffined and started to crumple the letter. Voldemort snatched it out of his hand and read it to see what all of the fuss was about. He almost had a coniption. It read:

_Dear Dursley's, My name is Albus Dumbledor and I have a sort of proposition for you. You see your nephew is the savior of our world and I want him to grow up without the knowledge of this or the fact that he is a wizard. We wouldn't want a prideful and cocky savior would we? I hear that you are having a bad time at your job Mr. Dursley, well I am willing to give you five-thousand pounds a mounth as long as you keep up your part of your deal. Mrs. Dursley I know this will be hard on you but your sister wouldn't have forgiven you anyway. She would always talk of your snotty attitude and how you were nothing but a jelous muggle that envied her beauty and magic. She never talked of forgiving The Incident as she called it and if Harry'd lived with her he'd have hated you as much as she said she did. I left the first payment in the envelope. All you have to do is spill Harry's blood on the envelope and it is all yours. This offer only lasts for twenty-four hours so choose wisely._

_Sincerly, _

_Albus Dumbledor_

Death picked up the baby whose eyes opened as soon as contact was made. Death cradled the bundle with practiced ease and bent down to magic a gloem in his Master's image into the basket. He put the basket exactly how it was except he put a new letter that looks like the other offensive one on top. Voldemort was about to ask what was in that one but Death turned to look at him and he could, for the first time, see its eyes and they were burning flames with a fury that not even Hell could match. Voldemort decided to stay silent or else he thought he would see what Death could really do, Master's mate or not.

Death grabbed him again and they went through what felt like apparation and they landed in a room. It looked like a kind of parlor that was black with green highlights. There was a fire in the fireplace that threw shadows all over making it seem like there was more space in the room and that space was occupied by wraiths waiting to kill you for a wrong move. There was a black leather arm chair, a green leather arm chair, a black lovesofa with a green blanket over the top of it, and a black long sofa all around a black marble coffee table. "Where are w-" Voldemort trailed off into silence becasue when he turned around he expected to see Death doing something while holding a baby in his hands. Instead in the baby's place standing next to Death was a man that was shorter than him and yet still tall coming to 6'1" to his 6'4". The man's hair came all the way down to his butt and he was wearing a tight black tee-shirt that hugged his arm muscles and leather pants that left not much to be imagined. However, the most intense part of him that had Voldemorts attention were his eyes that peirced his soul and seemed to know him in a scary way. Voldemort like what he saw and his lust was intensified by the wave of love and even more lust coming from inside of him. Then the man spoke.

"Hello Tom its been a while."


	4. Chapter 4

"That will be all Death; I don't need your services at the moment. I will summon you when I need you." Death nodded and then vanished into the darkness in a creepy manner, but not without first sending Tom a chilling stare. The man chuckled and set off out of the room. Tom, with no hesitation, followed him not knowing what to do.

They walked along the seemingly endless hallways in silence as the man didn't seem to be in a chatty mood and Tom refused to be the one who broke the silence. Instead he worked on trying to remember all of the twists and turns that they passed, trying to make a map in his head of the layout of the house on the constant lookout for landmarks and what not. However, this venture was almost pointless. All of the hallways were completely identical. The house itself was decorated in dark wood with a landscape painting of some moors hanging over a table with two candle holders on either side of vase of flowers. In fact Tom was sure that if he measured down the hallways every painting, table, candle, and vase of flower would be immaculately placed to the last millimeter. As He realized this he started to pay more and more attention to his surroundings and made a realization. Looking back over all of the twists and turns that made up their journey he got pissed. The next time they passed the door that was also in the hallway he stopped and stepped through it. His suspicions were confirmed. They were in the _**exact same room that they had left! **_

Tom stalked into the room and whirled around to find the man leaning against the door way having the audacity to _**smirk**_ at _**him**_! It was completely ridiculous to think about. Tom was used to having the upper hand of any situation that he came across and now here he was, the butt of a joke and being openly mocked by some guy who was supposedly his mate. Tom's appalled silence soon turned to quite furry that turned into an all-out rage. Giving into his desires for the first time in a long time Tom opened his mouth and let out all of his frustrations and confusions to this man that he'd just met.

"What in the name of Salazar do you think you're doing?" He started with a hiss entering his speech with his rage. "Do you know who I am? Obviously not for if you had known you surly would've shown a glimmer of respect or at least a remote sense of decorum at the very least. I don't care if you are this all powerful being that controls Death itself. This is abysmal behavior. I would have found that at the very least you would have the decency to act your assumed incredible age and could have told me your name before you led me on a wild snitch chase! And what the heck is so gosh darned funny?!" The last part was accompanied by a blast of his magic filled with the waves of anger that filled his body.

The man wasn't at the door frame smirking anymore. He was on the floor. Literally rolling on the floor with laughter. He stayed that way for many minutes before finally getting a hold of himself just as Tom was about to contemplate whether or not to poor cold water on him. The man got up and approached Tom and Tom had to catch himself before he started to back from the intimidating presence that seemed to drown the room as soon as he met those old alluring eyes that incased his very being in a sea of green. He felt very much like prey watching as his predator stalked him and he could do nothing to stop it. What scared him more than that though was the little part of him that didn't want to do anything about the attention that had been lavished upon him in that single second.

The man slid into his personal space and wrapped his arms around the waist of Tom's rigged body. He leaned up until his lips were on Tom's ear and said, "I always forget how like a child you are before I release you from your prison. It is hilarious to watch as you struggle to assert dominance over one that is so far above you, like a rock that steadily fights against the currents thinking it's strong not realizing the power that it is going up against until it is a meer pebble that is forever at the mercy of patient water. Or, if is unlucky," here the man starts to let his power ooze out into the room, a physical presence that weighed on Tom's shoulders enough to force him to bend his knees to be able to stay standing his weight to bear almost as heavy as Atlas'. He continues. "the bolder will realize the strength of the water early as it crashes it between its waves over and over to be suppressed and crushed, to be humiliated as the 'mighty' falls at the hand of its underestimated enemy. Which is worse? Which is better? Which will you choose my strong and mighty rock? Will you try and wake the sleeping beast in me? Will you temp a tempest of the highest order from me so that you may say that you have the upper power? Or would you rather that I allow you to continue to think you are in charge, maybe even allow others to think you're in charge and yet the both of know that it is quite the contrary? What say you oh Lord Voldemort slayer of many whom was defeated by a babe? What say you mate whom I have an eternal claim on? What say you ojos del Diablo?"

Not once during the whole speech did the smaller man raise his voice, not once did his magic (which Tom could tell was still leashed) attack or become offensive, and not once did he do anything overtly dominant yet Tom still felt himself give in to this man who should be at least equal to him if not below him because of his unfortunate height. Something deep within him, disturbingly close to the barrier that he'd found inside of him, told him to submit was bliss and to fight was pain beyond all possible forms of the imagination.

So he submitted.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, for the first time in his life, submitted to something without knowing all of the detail of the entanglement or even knowing if he'd get something out of it. He allowed his (bleh) Griffendor side to surface and sagged into the man's arms whose name he didn't even know. It was the best feeling in the world.

As he leaned into the calming presence of the man that was holding him, he felt the his magic mingling with the others and felt how the suppression that he'd been feeling left without even the memory of pressure. The magic became accepting and reassuring. As he was about to fall into the bliss that was this moment, Tom heard the man speak again.

"You will know me as Harry Potter this time ojo del Diablo. Rest now I will awaken you fully later, you will need all of the rest you can get." Tom made sure that he remembered the name before he stepped to the edge of oblivion. Before he stepped willingly off, though, there was a whispered, "I hope you survive this time." He was about to wake up to ask what he meant when he felt foreign yet familiar magic that came to him and pushed him, gently, into sleep.

**A/N: I've had many people that are on me because I messed up the dates of Harry's birth and his parents death. To be honest I really don't care for dates and I will admit that I went back and I see my mistake on the matter. However I will not go back and change it because, like I said, I don't care about the dates. I meant for them to be canon dates so from now on in your head remember the real dates. The dates don't even matter anymore at the moment because they are in the realm of the dead so there is no need for time there. Thank you for reading the note and if you were expecting an apology for the time it took me to update well… ha ha ha your funny. I write when the mood strikes but I never abandon a story. This story will however will be moving along in the near future. I really want to finish this story before I get to the juicy bits of my other one so I may be updating this one more often…maybe not. That is all I had to say other than I respect constructive criticism and I fight fire with fire so if you feel the need to flame…be ready to get burned.**

**p.s I am not stupid! I know that I have been spelling Dumbledore's name wrong! It's on purpose! Most of my spelling errors are either on propose or a victim of spell check. I don't have a beta so this will have to do.**


	5. Chapter 5

Harry stared at the peaceful face of his mate as he contemplated the future. Taking in the smooth pale features framed by milk chocolate hair calmed his racing mind for the first time in what felt like centuries.

"Death." He murmured just above a whisper. Death rises out of the shadows and kneels in the middle of the room cloaked in darkness with only bone like hands showing. "Oh get up! I don't have time for your foolishness! I need you to go and set up the ritual room for later. This time we will be assimilating all of the memories into him."

"Master. Excuse me for my forwardness but need I remind you what could happen if he malfunctions from the procedure? The most we've ever successfully done is-"

"I know Death! I was there. You are right… you're being too forward and I need you to just go and follow my instructions. I have no need to explain anything to you. Also, while you're at it I would like for you to take that ridiculous outfit off."

Death stands and the cloak of darkness and skeletal hands disappear to show a younger version of the man Voldemort had met wearing a black shirt with a red skull and crossbones on it, black skinny jeans, and converses with red shoe strings. Harry raised an eyebrow at the attire and decided that he wouldn't comment on it this time. He was distracted from Death's attire by Death's reply. "Yes Master. As you say it so shall it be." Death turned to go.

"Oh… and Death?" Death stopped but didn't turn around. "I'll be going over the circle myself so it wouldn't be prudent for there to be any…mistakes with the rune sequencing…right?"

Death turned and bowed to Harry while murmuring "Of course not Master." Then he melted into the shadows that he came from the do his master's bidding.

Harry sighed as he watched Death go. He turned back to Voldemort's sleeping body and letting his thoughts wonder. After a small infinity of him just basking in the presence of his mate whether he was awake or not Harry finally spoke.

"I have waited many eternities for you and I will wait many more for you are worth it. However I hope you are ready for me, as I am ready for you." Here Harry smiled a cold cruel smile that had seen civilizations fall and was intimate with the darkness that he thrived on. "Yet, even if you are not I wouldn't mind because you are mine. No matter how long I have to wait for you to be ready I will always know that you are mine. Mine to hold, love, cherish, break, destroy, and kill. Any and all who touch you will find themselves facing the wrath of the one who tamed Death." Then he laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

Death was furious.

His master was paying attention to someone else. He knew all along that his master had a mate but after hundreds of thousands of millions of billions of years with his master's attention firmly on him, and only him, he knew that, no matter how happy his master's mate will make him, his master's mate had to go.

He had spent years and life-times sabotaging his master's mate's accent into godhood so that his master's mate would have to keep restarting over and over with the process that would make him 'perfect' for his master. Just because the upstart had made it this far already and evaded his attempts to make him fall into the pits of paranoia and madness doesn't mean he will be unsuccessful. Death is patient and tenacious. He had learned long ago that patience will get you everywhere. Death was sure that if he just waited long enough his master would care for him as he cared for his master. All he would have to do is wait.

Dumbledore sat in his office sipping on a glass of firewhisky and reminiscing about how brilliant he was. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't think of anyone he knew that could pull off what he'd done.

He'd had it all planned out even from young Riddle's Sixth year. When he found out just how far the boy would go to test his power he knew that he would grow up to be something terrible. He couldn't go to the other teachers because they all believed that he was the little dark angel that he portrayed himself to be. Therefore he knew that he couldn't do anything to the boy until after school was out.

Then the unexpected happened. Dumbledore had to face his old friend in battle and won. Suddenly, it didn't matter that he didn't have the headmaster position yet. He was the defeater of Grindelwald and everyone listened to him. That didn't help him with the riddle situation because he graduated that year. However, he did sabotage his ability to get a decent job despite his superior education and position in school.

When the war started he was ecstatic. The time of the fear of Grindelwald was passed and his influence was waning. Then, all of the sudden, he was needed again because the next big Dark Lord had come and he went by the name Voldemort. He knew all along and enjoyed rubbing it in discreetly where he could because he was right and they should have listened to him then like they were now.

Then that blasted woman had to go and make that prophecy that says that someone else would take his glory and a mere boy at that! He was furious! The only good thing that came out of that prophecy was that he gained a spy in the form of poor remorseful Severus who came to him because he was worried about his precious Lily. Dumbledore scoffed to himself. 'So if it weren't for his fear of Lily's death he wouldn't've changed sides? He wouldn't do it because I was more powerful than Voldemort but he would do it for some Mudblood and her Half-blood thief of a son?' Dumbledore shook himself and continued passed his tangent of thoughts.

After Severus' confession and convection from the Dark, Dumbledore also knew the family that Voldemort was most-likely to attack. So what did he do? He convinced the Potter's that they weren't safe behind the walls of Potter Manor, despite the fact that it was more fortified than even Hogwarts at its prime when he wasn't taking power from the wards. He told them that the fidelius wouldn't work on the Potter Manor because it was too big and there were already too many wards and it would make all of them collapse (lie).

They willingly moved into Gordric's Hollow after that (with the help of trust potions and the confundus charm) and lived their merry lives until they had to choose a Secret Keeper. He convinced Sirius that he would be too well known as the Secret Keeper and that he might be captured and forced to tell and offered Pettigrew as an alternate while at the same time making them think that Lupin was the Spy in the ranks and not to be trusted.

Dumbledore, of course, already knew that Pettigrew was the spy because of Severus and an unhealthy dose of Imperious and Legimuns. When the alarms went off on his desk he sat back in satisfaction as he imagined what was happening in the house.

He was a little disappointed to see the brat still alive and well in the house in the hands of a loving godfather. He had to change that for the Greater Good. If the boy didn't grow up with a heavy hand then he wouldn't do what needs to be done when the time is right. Also, even worse, if he is trained up to his full potential then he might decide that he is too powerful to listen to orders and then he would have to kill him prematurely.

There is only one person who wouldn't be corrupted by the absolute power defeating a Dark Lord gives and that was himself. He would take over as the boy's mentor, who gave him everything he needed to take out the worst Dark Lord in history. The populace of sheep that he owns would look up to him when, in the final moments, the boy dies to protect them and he swoops in to make everything ok again. He will again be in his rightful place as the wise and powerful old man that he is. They might even call him the next Merlin raising up powerful new generations. He would let the Boy-Who-Lived have his moment in the spotlight because soon enough it will be just him once again, just as it should be.

_**A.N: I'm sorry. I was planning to update on the Sixth and that didn't work out so I'm giving it to you now. That is, however, the only thing I'm sorry about. I hope you liked it. If you didn't…oh well. Thank you for the likes for the story you know who you are and you're MVR's for that. However, big shout outs goes to those who reviewed and an even bigger shout out to those who had constructive criticism to give me. Y'all are the best kinds of people in the world and I hand out to you fresh baked brownies and ice cream. Blue bell… if you die sorry but I like it so…. Yeah.**_


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